The Way You Lie
by KJmom
Summary: Angsty Drarry inspired by Love the Way You Lie - NOT a songfic.  Slash - you've been warned!
1. Burn

**A/N: As you will notice from the first line, this was inspired by 'Love the Way You Lie' by Rihanna ft Eminem (Part 2). This will be a series of four (I think) short one-shots. Three are complete and I'm writing the fourth. Crossing Lines is on hiatus until I can churn the next chapter out, so here's a little something for you Drarry lovers while you wait.**

**A HUGE thanks to Lori for the beta on this, she is an absolute angel!**

"_Just gonna stand there and watch me burn, but that's alright because I like the way it hurts."_

He smells of perfume, yet again. I know where he's been, and I know whose scent permeates the air around him. It still amazes me that he thinks me so naïve.

The first time, maybe I was. His excuse was so plausible. He was working late; they had dinner together over case files. Then, I began to wonder why he didn't come home smelling of burgers or Chinese. It is always gardenia. I swear it gets stronger every time. It feels as if he's flaunting it now, rather than trying to hide it.

He doesn't come home and head directly to the shower anymore; he hugs me still reeking of that _bint_. Its such a slap in the face. If he were seeing another man, I would know exactly how to win him back. As it is, I wonder how I'm to compete, for surely I will lose him - if I haven't already.

The first few minutes after he comes through the door I'm always so terrified. _Will it be today?_ Will today end the lies that threaten to suffocate me? Everyday I find myself hoping not. It says something that he still cares enough to lie, right? If there is anything left for me in his heart - any small piece of it that hasn't been rotted by _her_ - then maybe, just maybe, I still have a chance.

He is in love with her. I see the way he looks at her, the glazed expression that sinks into his eyes when she's nearby. I feel it in the way he touches me, as if I'm merely a chore. His kisses used to feel like fire, now its just something else that must be done. A brief brush of lips and a mumbled 'love you' are all I get.

I've tried so hard to hold on to him. So hard, in fact, that I've stood idly by as he falls in deeper. I have never mentioned his dalliance. I have never once voiced my concerns - my heartache. I want to scream, throw things, demand he 'stop this nonsense at once.' I want to cry, beg him to love me again. Then, sometimes, I just want to let go.

I think tonight is it, the night I finally let go. When he reaches for me, I back away. There is a question floating in those green - _so green - _eyes, but he doesn't ask. Instead, his arms drop and resignation - is that sadness as well? - clouds his face.

I tell him that dinner is waiting under a heating charm in the kitchen. It's no surprise when he says he isn't hungry. He eyes me carefully for a moment, as if memorizing my face, before disappearing into the bathroom to shower. I don't think, don't wonder if I'm making the right choice. I grab the nearest trunk and pack as much as I can.

A quickly scribbled note on our bed will be all the explanation he gets. It isn't as if he needs to know why; he already knows. I stop at the threshold of our home. This is it. The moment I've been fearing for months - since the first time the smell of gardenias turned my stomach.

Its strange that I was so frightened of him leaving, and I'm the one walking out. Really though, he left a long time ago; I'm simply closing the door behind him. The sound of the door hits me like a punch in the stomach and I remind myself to put one foot in front of the other - one step at a time, one tear at a time.


	2. Break

**A/N: Part 2 of what I now know will be a four part series of short one-shots. Much love to you all!**

**Once again, so many hugs to Lori for her wonderfulness - she deserves them!**

"_And it's sick that all these battles are what keeps me satisfied."_

She wraps her arms around me from behind and asks me to stay. I can't and I tell her no. She doesn't understand, but I don't explain; I'm not sure that I can anyway. She tells me she loves me and I cringe. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

I just needed someone to talk to, someone who knew us both and might be able to be unbiased. It turns out, she's anything but unbiased. In the beginning she seemed so understanding. She listened to me, gave me advice. Slowly that changed. Now, her advice is always the same. I should leave him.

I'm not stupid; I knew what was happening long before she admitted her feelings. I just couldn't stop seeing her. I hate that she will be a casualty of my relationship, but it can't be helped. He's so jealous of her, and it may be the wrong kind, but there's emotion in him again. Every time I come home late, he _feels_. Soon, it will be too much. Soon he'll break.

I don't know what happened. The first time he kissed me it was like a wildfire, all consuming. How could something between us be anything but explosive? Slowly we went from screaming matches that disturbed the neighbors and make up sessions that threatened to burn me alive to this… _nothing. _And that's just it, he changed, or I changed, _something_ changed.

We hardly talk, we never yell, the sex is routine and nothing else. He isn't himself anymore, or maybe _I'm_ not. I don't know, but something shifted and I can't handle it. I need to see him thrumming with anger. I need to see him fall apart in my arms. I _crave_ the constant conflict, the passion.

When I first realized he thought I was cheating, I almost told him the truth. But, for the first time in months, he was _alive_. The tension between us was palpable; I found myself drowning in waves of his fury. It felt like it used to feel. He was burning, and that's what I need. I was sure it wouldn't take much for it to come to a head. He'd scream at me, tell me he hated me, then I'd throw him down and show him how untrue that was. It never happened.

Most nights there's just acceptance, but every now and then, I see that flame in his eyes. The one that makes me shiver and causes my insides to tense. Those are the nights I push him to respond to me. I know he smells her on me, and on those nights, I don't even change my shirt.

I walk through the door and there's some dangerous emotion dancing between us immediately. Tonight something will change, I see it on his face. I don't usually make excuses anymore, but I need this to end. So, I revert to my old 'had to work late, Ginny was helping me' routine. He's strung so tight. I lean in for a hug, hoping that will make him snap.

He jerks away, and tells me dinner is waiting in the kitchen. That's when I understand. I've hurt him too much. Maybe I haven't been doing what he thinks, but the damage is done. I consider just telling him and ending this farce. Yes, that's what I'll do, but first I need to shower.

I step under the warm spray, and it feels so good I want to stand here for the rest of the night, wash away all my sins. He's waiting though, so I finish as quickly as I can. It's odd this has been going on as long as it has, but now I just want it out in the open as soon as possible.

I step out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel and I swear I hear the click of the front door. My eyes rest on a piece of paper laying innocently on our bed and I _know_. My blood runs cold. I make a mad dash for the door, for the man I _love._


	3. Crash

**A/N: I don't think I've said this yet, but the song and the characters belong to someone else. There's one more part left, which I will strive to get out in the next couple days. Thanks for the lovely reviews, I really do adore you guys!**

**Thanks again to Lori! She's the wind beneath my wings!**

"_So, maybe I'm a masochist. I try to run, but I don't ever want to leave."_

"Draco!"

I tell myself not to stop.

"Draco, _please_."

There's so much pain in his voice. I can't help myself. I have to stop, but I do not face him.

"Don't leave, _please_, don't leave."

Don't leave? Is he _serious_?

"It's not what you think."

"It's not what I _think?_ You can't be serious! You're running around with that redheaded… _tramp._ I'm not stupid, Harry Potter."

I feel the old animosity rise up between us. I can't decide if I want to hit him or push him against the nearest hard surface and fuck him into oblivion.

"I'm not sleeping with her, Draco, I never have. I don't want to. Please, just come back inside and we'll talk, okay?"

I don't want to talk, I want to beat him senseless. I turn to tell him so and my breath catches in my throat. He's _naked_. Well, there is a towel, but it's not hiding much. His eyes are wide, his nostrils are flaring, every muscle in his body is tensing invitingly, and he's _hard_.

It's been so long since he's responded to me like this; he's practically vibrating from the tension between us.

"I…" I don't know what to say, what to do. I'm still so bloody mad at him, but I want nothing more than to kiss him, hold him, make love to him.

"Come back inside, Draco." He isn't yelling anymore, but there's still something dangerous in his voice. I know, if I go back in that house, I'm never leaving. His eyes are promising me the best fuck of my life. I drop my trunk in the grass and I step forward. I've always been the type to follow my cock, it's how I ended up in his bed in the first place.

His breath gets shallower with every step I take toward him and fire flows white hot through my veins. He moves back as I reach the door. I take care to shut it before I touch him, if not I don't know that I'll care to do it.

I take just a moment to rest my head against the cool wood of the doorframe and I can feel him just _there_. He's panting against the skin of my neck, but he has not moved. I need this moment of calm before the storm. Its been so fucking long since its felt like this, like I might _die_ if he doesn't touch me right _now_.

Then he does and the rest of the world ceases to exist. He's pulling insistently at my shirt, but there's not time to worry about saving it. While he's pulling at the back, I rip the front open and find satisfaction at the way the buttons scatter noisily around the room.

"_Yes_." Hot air ghosts over my exposed skin seconds before his mouth follows it. I shudder at the first swipe of his tongue and I press further into the door, already seeking whatever friction I can find.

It should be embarrassing, the way I'm humping frantically into the door as he reacquaints himself with my body, but it isn't. He's always been able to reduce me to whimpers quickly, and this time is no exception.

"I'll take care of you, baby. Never wanted anyone else, only you… god, only you. It's only ever been you." The words are half broken sobs and my heart lurches at every one of them. I want to believe him so badly.

His hands slide around my waist and knead into the flesh of my stomach as he pulls me away from the door and against his body. As we stumble backward, I see the towel on the floor and my cock throbs with the knowledge that he really is naked now.

I try to turn in his arms, but he holds me firmly as he moves us toward the bedroom. As he's fumbling with the knob, I break free and force him roughly into the wall. Now that we're face to face, I can see how flushed he is, how much he wants me.

As I study him, I wonder how I could have been so blind. He doesn't want this normal life to which we've adapted. He wants _this_, this tug of war, this raging volcanic _eruption_. He _wants_ the adversity, he thrives on our volatile passion. I run my thumb roughly over his bottom lip and he nips at it almost harshly.

I break, _he_ breaks me, as always. I can't be bothered with getting us to the bed, I need him _now_. He tugs shakily at my belt, but I slap his hands away.

"Hands above your head, now."

I don't expect him to comply and he doesn't disappoint me. Instead of doing as I bid, he tangles his fingers tightly in my hair and slams our mouths together. His tongue invades my mouth as if he means to eat me alive and his teeth tear at my lips. It hurts, it burns, its so fucking perfect.

I fight to get the fastening on my trousers open and tremble with relief when my cock finally springs free. He growls loudly as I thrust against him, then he's climbing me. There's a frenzied scrambling of hands and feet, and then - with the help of the wall - I'm supporting his weight.

"Lube." I barely get the word out before he's shaking his head and searching for my hand. It seems that saliva will be the only thing to ease my way, but he isn't put off by the idea.

My wet finger pushes into him at an odd angle, but he sighs loudly as his head falls back against the wall. It's only seconds until he's bucking wildly, trying to pull me deeper and _begging_.

"Please, Draco. That's enough, god _please_, fuck me." He whines when I don't impale him as quickly as he'd like.

"Sshh, Harry." His head falls forward slightly and I get to see that lovely unfocused look in his eyes. It's a look that's always meant either one of two things: fighting or fucking.

"Draco…" I still him again when he tries to pull me closer.

"It this want you wanted, love? You need me to own you? Show you that you are mine?"

He nods vigorously.

"_Yes._ Either way, I'm yours, you're mine. I don't care who does the showing, I just _need_ you. Need us to be _us."_


	4. Rebuild

**A/N: Thanks to Lori for her mad beta skillz and taking time out of her busy schedule to look over this for me. Of course, she's fantabulous, but any and all remaining mistakes are my own. The song and characters all belong to some who is not me... namely Rihanna, Eminem, and JK Rowling. I'm sure there are others as well, but the point I'm making is that I'm not profiting from this in any way. Unless you want to leave a review... *wink, wink***

_"Destructive path that we're on, two psychopaths but we_

_Know that no matter how many knives we put in each other's backs_

_That we'll have each other's backs, 'cause we're that lucky."_

I wince as he pushes into me; it hurts, but the pain is what I need. The pain keeps me grounded; it reminds me who we are together. Nothing has ever been easy for us, but I love the excitement, the uncertainty. I love him, just the way he is: sarcastic, difficult, spiteful, witty, charming, and sexy.

He's finally buried deep inside my body, and I'm so full, so _whole._ He has a bruising grip on my hips, and I'm pinned firmly between his body and the wall. The only sound I hear over the pounding of my heart is our labored breathing.

The tensing of his body is the only warning I get before he pulls out and thrusts back into me harshly. He pounds into me brutally, each snap of his hips a punishment that I gladly pay. His hair is in disarray, his lips are curling in a feral snarl, and his eyes are flashing fire. He's never been more beautiful to me.

Pleasure begins to overwhelm me and I moan his name as my eyes fall closed.

"No, keep your eyes open, Harry, look at me." He growls savagely at me and punctuates his command with a particularly hard thrust. My gasp brings a smirk to his lips.

"You are _mine_, Harry James Potter." I nod as enthusiastically as I can manage.

Suddenly, his hips rotate slightly and he's battering my prostate deliciously. My nerve endings are sparking dangerously and every muscle in my body is tightening, but I fight to keep my eyes open and focused on him. My prick is throbbing with need, but I ignore it and cling desperately to his shoulders.

He's fucking me so viciously that I can barely catch my breath. No one else could ever make me feel this way, and he wants me to know that.

"Are you close, Harry?" A jerky nod is all I can accomplish, and he releases one of my legs to wrap his hand around me and stroke. Once. Twice. Three times is all it takes and I'm coming, blinded by the sparks that flare just behind my eyelids when they finally close. My body arches wildly, but he stills, just supporting me - holding me almost tenderly through my aftershocks.

"Alright?" There's a little concern in his voice and his eyes, but as soon as I look at him and whisper affirmatively, he reassumes his grueling pace.

I know this game well. When we've had a particularly bad row, he loves to wear me down like this - multiple orgasms that I can only achieve with him.

He's becoming unsteady and unfocused. His body is twitching in that wonderful way that tells me he's on the brink. In a flash, his hands move from my thighs to tangle almost painfully in my hair. I'm literally pinned between his body and the wall and every sporadic thrust rocks me upward. I know that I'll be sore tomorrow - parts of me already are - but its worth it. I wish I had the energy or ability to reach climax with him. As his cock pulses in my swollen and abused channel, he lets out a low moan and nuzzles into my hair. He is finally unguarded enough for me to lavish his slender neck with affectionate kisses.

X.X

Consciousness comes to me slowly as the morning rays find their way through the drapes. I'm in our bed, and I don't remember how I got here, so I can only assume that he's responsible. I'm terrified to fully wake up, scared to open my eyes. What if he's not here? What if I pushed him too far and he left? I don't even want to consider the possibility that last night was goodbye.

I gather my Gryffindor courage and let out a sigh of relief when the first thing I see is his face. He's staring at me from across the pillow and those penetrating grey eyes are cutting into my soul. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing seems right. He sees my struggle and cuts me off.

"Never?"

"No, Draco, I _swear_. She was just-"

"Don't, just _don't_. I don't care for you to explain just now. I don't want to talk about her now, or maybe ever. I just need to know that you aren't sleeping around." There's steel in his voice and his face is unreadable.

"I'm not, I promise."

He's silent for several minutes and I try to think of some way I can reassure him when he speaks again.

"Why didn't you just say something, Harry? Why didn't you tell me you were bored, or unhappy?" His voice is dripping with pain. I hate to see him so confused and unsure.

"I wasn't bored, I just didn't like the way things changed. Suddenly it was like we were two different people. Can you remember the last time you screamed at me? How about the last time you were so mad at me you couldn't see straight? Do you know how long it's been since you've slammed me against a wall? Or fucked me dry because it was either that or hit me? That's _us_, baby. That's how we are and I love it. I _live_ for it. I spent so many years facing excitement at every turn, that the monotony of my daily life _kills_ me. But, I get through it because here is where I find my challenge. I never know what to expect with you, and I wouldn't want it any other way."

"But-" I hold up my hand to stop him; I need to say this - right now - or I may never get it all out.

"Then, you just stopped. You started to agree with everything I said; you went along with everything I did. I didn't know what to do. So, I turned to Ginny for help. She tried, she really did, but she just didn't understand. I would have stopped spending time with her, but I started to notice how jealous you were. I knew you thought I was sleeping with her. I was just waiting for you to say something. I thought I could provoke you if I kept seeing her; I didn't think you'd walk out on me."

His eyes are gleaming suspiciously when he finally finds his voice, "Harry, do you remember what happened the last time we had an argument?"

Of course I remember, "I fucked you over the kitchen table and it was possibly - not counting last night - the best sex ever."

He gives me an incredulous look and shakes his head, "Before that, don't you remember?"

No, I really don't. I have no clue what we fought about. Maybe I left my socks on the floor? Was it over who would win the World Cup? Or which set of friends to invite for dinner?

"I don't know, Draco, really. All I can recall is how bloody fantastic the sex was. So, it must have been one hell of a fight." I grin a little at the memory, but my smile fades when I notice a tear making it's way down his pale cheek.

"I _hit_ you, Harry. You had a black eye for days afterward. I felt like shit."

"Why?" I'm so lost. I can't even begin to imagine why he'd be upset over that. I can't count the number of times we came to blows when we were younger. I don't understand why this is so different.

"Why? Because I love you, you bastard. I love you and I can't believe I fucking hit you. I want to wring your neck sometimes, but I don't _really_ want to hurt you. I… I was scared after that. I thought you were going to leave me for sure. When you didn't, I thought I'd better make some changes because I didn't want to lose you."

I can't help the chuckle that bubbles out of my mouth as I wipe away his tears.

"It isn't like you beat me, Draco. I am perfectly capable of defending myself. Besides, I'm sure I deserved it."

He pushes my hand off his face, "Harry, no one deserves to be hit by someone that loves them. I can't do that, Harry. If that's what you want, then maybe…"

"Don't even say that. I just need the real you back. I need you to be snarky and argumentative. I like it when you contradict me and demand to get your way. I love the fact that even though we're so obviously _wrong_ for each, we _work._ And we do work, you know? I give you hell, and you give it right back."

He traces the side of my face with a finger and sighs wistfully. "I do miss arguing with you."

I laugh at the absurdity of the statement and shake my head, "Only us."

His eyes go serious again and he leans in for a gentle kiss. When he pulls away he smiles at me shyly.

"Yeah, only us. But, Harry? Can we do this sometimes too? Talk? I wouldn't even really be opposed to the occasional cuddle, if you are inclined." He blushes and bows his head like he's just made a horrible confession.

"I…" I start, but I'm not sure what to say. All I've been thinking about the last few months is what _I_ need. I haven't really taken the time to consider what he needs. It's never really crossed my mind that he might want tenderness or affection.

"It's okay, I mean, we don't have to, I just thought-" He looks ashamed of his request.

"No! It's good. To be honest, the idea of snuggling you is very appealing. So, we'll fight, we'll fuck, we'll talk, we'll cuddle… Anything else?"

"Yeah, could we actually make love once in a while? Or, maybe go out for dinner? Oh! Could we go see a muggle film? We're always watching them around here, but I think I'd like to see one in the theater." His eyes light up and I think maybe he's even more beautiful happy than he is angry.

I'm beginning to realize that there are so many things we haven't done together. I make a promise to myself right then that we will do everything he wants and more. I'm sure we won't agree on which restaurant to go to, or which movie to see, but we'll work it out - over the back of the sofa, the kitchen counter, the wall, in an alleyway beside the theater, or just possibly in bed surrounded by candles.

Yeah, I think we need to explore _all_ the things we could do together…


End file.
